


Kinktober Day 3: Distention and Knifeplay (sort of)

by Oriana1990



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Knifeplay, M/M, distention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 20:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oriana1990/pseuds/Oriana1990
Summary: Will is full of Hannibal's delicious food; Hannibal fantasizes about cutting it out of him.





	Kinktober Day 3: Distention and Knifeplay (sort of)

**Author's Note:**

> Only these two nerds could work each other up talking about gutting, honestly.

Will stares absently through his glass, watching the lick of firelight refracting through the amber liquid and casting gentle light against the dark walls. They’ve retired to the study after dinner, semi-somnolent from the combination of the late hour, the alcohol, and the metric fuck-ton of rich food Hannibal served up this evening. This is the room that is most like Hannibal’s Baltimore home despite being half a world away, and the familiarity still messes with Will’s perception of time and space. It’s like they never left. It’s like it was never real.

His stomach aches where it’s pressed against his waistband. He and Hannibal may have been together for some time now, may know each other better than anyone in the world could hope to, but he has still refrained from unbuttoning his pants out of some kind of misplaced courtesy, or let’s be honest, more likely pride. 

Hannibal leans into him and buries his face in his hair. It had initially come as a surprise how tactile Hannibal is, and it took some getting used to after decades of self-imposed isolation. It’s less rare these days to see Hannibal so at ease, but with his cheeks flushed from the wine and the warmth of the fire, it’s hard to remember who and what he truly is.

Will relaxes into Hannibal and tries to get comfortable. “I’ll never be able to eat again, you do know that right? I feel like I’m about to burst at the seams.”

Hannibal gives him an odd look – insofar as he can tell it’s a look from their respective positions. An odd feeling, perhaps. A sense that Hannibal has latched onto something he’s said but is reluctant to share. Will isn’t sure he wants to know. He pulls slightly back from their embrace so he can look at his partner and asks anyway.

“What.” Hannibal pulls his blankly innocent, I’m-about-to-lie-to-you face. “I know you’re familiar with the idiom, so it’s something else.”

“I simply wondered whether you were referring to your clothes, or your skin.”

Will frowns, searching for a connection. “I don’t have-” he pulls up short at the cautious hunger he sees in Hannibal’s eyes, and begins to join the abstruse dots. Hannibal runs a gentle, broad hand over Will’s swollen stomach, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the long-healed scar from his own knife. Confirming the picture Will is beginning to build in his head. Interesting.

“Hannibal…”

Hannibal pulls Will closer into his side again, lips to his temple, as his hand repeats its journey over Will’s abdomen. The pressure gradually increases, and Will squirms.

“Hannibal, I’m- that’s not very comfortable for me.” He feels Hannibal’s nails dig in, and the sharp pain sends a jolt of heat through his body. He grips Hannibal’s wrist with both hands. “It hurts”.

He feels a hot breath released in his hair. _Hannibal is getting off on this_. His sadism isn’t news; they’ve explored each other’s minds and bodies at length since the fall. His excitement at this new way to cause Will discomfort is nonetheless infecting Will, creating an emotional feedback loop. Will pulls up his shirt and pushes Hannibal’s hand against skin, arching his back into the uncomfortable touch. 

“Of course the wound will not re-open so long after healing, and yet…” Hannibal runs one nail hard along the line of the scar and Will cries out. It healed almost-numb, but Will can still feel the cold slide of the knife as it penetrated his abdomen all those years ago. With his stomach so swollen from his enormous dinner, it’s only too easy to imagine his guts spilling out again, viscera covering Hannibal’s hands. “Had I a knife, a scalpel, any tool with which to part your skin,” Hannibal punctuates his murmured words with a twist to the edge of the scar tissue that makes Will yelp. “The pressure you feel now would make it that much easier for me to lay your insides bare once again.”

“You’ve filled me up and now you want to take it out again? No, you’ve--” Will shudders a breath. “You’ve cared for me and now you want to hurt me.”

Hannibal moans into his hair, hands rough over Will’s distended stomach and hardening cock pressed to his hip.

“Hannibal, please… take me to bed.”

Will receives a surprisingly tender kiss to his cheek.

“You go on ahead my love; I will follow in just a moment.”

Hannibal watches him climb the stairs on shaky legs, then follows, pausing only to slide a knife from the kitchen block on the way.


End file.
